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" We use great plainness of speech." 




Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2012 with funding from 

Princeton Theological Seminary Library 





Jesus, that condescending King, 
Is pleas'd to hear when children sing, 
And while our feeble voices rise, 
Will not our humble prayer despise. 

Then keep us, Lord, from every sin, 
Which we can see and feel within^ 
And what we neither feel nor see, 
Forgive, for all is known to thee. 

We own there's nothing good in us, 
To tempt thee to befriend us thus: 
For sin and folly waste our days, 
Our prayers are weak, and poor our praise: 
a 2 


Yet, Lord, we humbly venture nigh, 
Because thou earnest down to die: 
And all the plea we dare to make 
Is " pardon for thy mercy's sake." 



Now that my journey's just begun, 

My road so little trod, 
I'll come before I further run, 

And give myself to God. 

And, lest I should be ever led 
Through sinful paths to stray, 

I would at once begin to tread 
In wisdom's pleasant way. 

What sorrows may my steps attend 

I never can foretell: 
But if the Lord will be my friend, 

I know that all is well. 

If all my earthly friends should die, 
And leave me mourning herej 

Since God can hear the orphan's cry, 
what have I to fear? 

If I am poor, he can supply 
Who has my table spread; 

Who feeds the ravens when they cry 
And fills his poor with bread. 

If I am rich, He'll guard my heart, 

Temptation to withstand; 
And make me willing to impart 

The bounties of his hand. 

But, Lord, whatever grief or ill 

For me may be in store, 
Make me submissive to thy will, 

And I would ask no more. 

Attend me through my youthful way, 

Whatever be my lot; 
And when I'm feeble, old and gray, 

Lord, forsake me not 

Then still, as seasons hasten by, 

1 will for heaven prepare; 

That God may take me when I die, 
To dwell for ever there. 




that it were my chief delight 
To do the things I ought! — 

Then let me try with all my might 
To mind what I am taught. 

Wherever I am told to go, 

I'll cheerfully obey: 
Nor will I mind it much, although 

I leave a pretty play. 

When I am bid, I'll freely bring 

Whatever I have got; 
And never touch a pretty thing, 

If mother tells me not. 

When she permits me, 1 may tell 

About my little toys; 
But if she's busy or unwell, 

I must not make a noise. 

And when I learn my hymns to say, 
And work, and read, and spell, 


1 will not think about my play, 
But try and do it well : 

For God looks down from heaven on high, 

Our actions to behold; 
And he is pleased when children try 

To do as they are told. 



Lord, I confess before thy face 

How naughty I have been: 
Look down from heaven, thy dwelling pla^v, 

And pardon this my sin. 

Forgive my temper, Lord, I pray, 

My passion and my pride; 
The wicked words I dar'd to say, 

And wicked thoughts beside. 

I cannot lay me down to rest 

In quiet on my bed, 
Until, with shame, I have confest 

The naughty things I said. 

10 HYMNS. 

The Saviour answer'd not a^ain, 
Nor spoke an angry word, 

To all the scoft's of wicked men, 
Although he was their Lord ! 

And who am I, a sinful child, 
Such angry words to say! — 

Make me as mild as he was mild, 
And take my pride away. 

For Jesus' sake forgive my crime, 
And change this stubborn heart; 

And grant me grace, another time, 
To act a better part. 


Great God, and wilt thou condescend 
To be my Father, and my Friend? — 
I but a child, and thou so high, 
The Lord of earth, and air, and sky! 

HYMNS. 11 

Art thou my Father? Canst thou bear 
To hear my poor, imperfect prayer; 
Or stoop to listen to the praise 
That such a little one can raise? 

Art thou my Father? Let me be 

A meek, obedient child to thee; 

And try, in word, and deed, and thought, 

To serve and please thee as I ought. 

Art thou my Father? I'll depend 
Upon the care of such a friend; 
And only wish to do, and be, 
Whatever seemeth good to thee. 

Art thou my Father? Then at last, 
When all my days on earth are past, 
Send down, and take me in thy love, 
To be thy better child, above. 


HYMNS. 13 


a child's hymn of praise. 

I thank the goodness and the grace 
Which on my birth have smil'd, 

And made me in these christian days, 
A free and happy child. 

I was not born, as thousands are, 

Where God was never known; 
And taught to pray a useless prayer, 

To blocks of wood and stone. 

I was not born a little slave, 

To labour in the sun, 
And wish I were but in the grave, 

And all my labour done! 

I was not born without a home, 

Or in some broken shed; 
A gipsy baby taught to roam, 

And stea ] my daily bread. 



My God, I thank thee, who hast plann'd 

A better lot for me, 
And plac'd me in this happy land, 

And where I hear of thee. 



God is so good that he will hear 
Whenever children humbly pray: 

He always lends a gracious ear 

To what the youngest child can say. 

His own most holy Book declares 
He loves good little children still, 

And that he listens to their prayers, 
Just as a tender father will. 

He loves to hear an infant tongue 
Thank him for all his mercies given; 

And when by babes his praise is sung, 
Their cheerful songs are heard in heaven. 



Come, then, dear children, trust his word, 
And seek him for your friend and guide; 

Your little voices will be heard, 
And you shall never be deny'd, 



This is a precious book indeed! 
Happy the child that loves to read ! 
? Tis God's own word, which he has given 
To show our souls the way to heaven! 

16 HYMNS. 

It tells us how the world was made; 
And how good men the Lord obey'd; 
There his commands are written too, 
To teach us what we ought to do. 

It bids us all from sin to fly, 
Because our souls can never die; 
It points to heaven, where angels dwell; 
And warns us to escape from hell. 

But, what is more than all beside, 
The Bible tells us Jesus died! 
This is its best, its chief intent, 
To lead poor sinners to repent. 

Be thankful, children, that you may 
Read this good Bible every day; 
'Tis God's own word, which he has given 
To show your souls the way to heaven. 



When daily I kneel down to pray 
As I am taught to do, 


God does not care for what I say, 
Unless I feel it too. 

Yet foolish thoughts my heart beguile; 

And when I pray, or sing, 
I'm often thinking, all the while, 

About some other thing. 

Some idle play, or childish toy, 

Can send my thoughts abroad; 
Though this should be my greatest joy, 

To love and seek the Lord. 

Oh! let me never, never, dare 

To act the trifler's part; 
Or think that God will hear a prayer 

That comes not from my heart; 

But if I make His ways my choice, 

As holy children do, 
Then, while I seek him with my voice, 

My heart will love him too. 

b 2 


"a broken and contrite heart, o god, 

thou wilt not despise." 
Though God preserves me ev'ry hour, 

And feeds me day by day, 
I know it is not in my power 

His goodness to repay. 

The poorest child, the greatest king, 

Alike must humbly own, 
No worthy present they can bring 

To offer at his throne; 

For we, and all our treasures too, 

Are His who reigns above: 
Then is there nothing I can do, 

To prove my grateful love? 

A broken heart he'll not despise, 

For 'tis his chief delight: 
This is a humble sacrifice, 

Well pleasing in his sight. 

Though treasures brought before his throne 
Would no acceptance find, 


He kindly condescends to own 
A meek and lowly mind. 

This is an offering we may bring, 

However mean our store: 
The poorest child, the greatest king, 

Can give him nothing more. 



My Father, I thank thee for sleep, 

For quiet and peaceable rest: 
I thank thee for stooping to keep 
An infant from being distrest: 
how can a poor little creature repay 
Thy fatherly kindness by night and by day! 

My voice would be lisping thy praise, 

My heart would repay thee with love: 
teach me to walk in thy ways, 
And fit me to see thee above; 
For Jesus said, "Let little children come 

And he will not despise such an infant as I. 

20 HYMNS. 

As long as thou seest it right 

That here upon earth I should stay, 
I pray thee to guard me by night, 
And help me to serve thee by day; 
That when all the days of niy life shall have 

I may worship thee better, in heaven, at last. 



Lord, I have pass'd another day, 

And come to thank thee for thy care: 

Forgive my faults in work and play, 
And listen to my evening prayer. 

Thy favour gives me daily bread, 

And friends, who all my wants supply; 

And safely now I rest my head, 
Preserv'd and guarded by thine eye. 

Look down in pity, and forgive 
Whate'er I've said or done amiss; 

And help me, every day I live, 
To serve thee better than in this. 

HYMNS. 21 

Now, while I sleep, be pleas'd to take 
A helpless child beneath thy care; 

And condescend, for Jesus' sake, 
To listen to my evening pray'r. 



What is there, Lord, a child can do, 

Who feels with guilt opprest? 
There's evil, that I never knew 

Before, within my breast. 

My thoughts are vain; my heart is hard; 

My temper apt to rise; 
And, when I seem upon my guard, 

It takes me by surprise. 

Often when I begin to pray, 

And lift my feeble cry, 
Some thought of folly, or of play. 

Prevents me when I try. 

On many Sabbaths, though I've heard 
Of Jesus and of heaven, 

22 HYMNS. 

I've scarcely listened to thy word, 
Or pray'd to be forgiven ! 

look with pity in thine eye 

Upon a heart so hard: 
Thou wilt not slight a feeble cry, 

Or show it no regard: 

The work I cannot undertake 

I leave to thee alone; 
And pray thee, for thy mercy's sake, 

To change this heart of stone. 



When, for some little insult given, 

My angry passions rise, 
I'll think how Jesus came from heaven, 

And bore his injuries. 

He was insulted every day, 

Though all his words were kind; 

But nothing men could do or say 
Disturb'd his heavenly mind. 

HYMNS. 23 

Not all the wicked scoffs he heard 

Against the truths he taught, 
Excited one reviling word, 

Or one revengeful thought. 

And when upon the cross he bled, 

With all his foes in view; 
6 " Father, forgive their sin," he said 

"They know not what they do." 

Dear Jesus, may I learn of thee 

My temper to amend: 
And speak those pardoning words for me 

Whenever I offend. 


"turn off mine eyes from beholding 


Lord, hear a sinful child complain, 
Whose little heart is very vain, 

And folly dwells within: 
What is it — for thine eye can see — 
That is so very dear to me; 
That steals my thoughts away from thee, 

And leads me into sin? 

24 HYMNS. 

Whatever gives me most delight, 
If 'tis offensive in thy sight, 

I would no more pursue: 
Since nothing can be good for me, 
However pleasant it may be, 
That is displeasing, Lord, to thee, 

May I dislike it too. 

When I attempt to read or pray, 
Some folly leads my heart astray, 

And sends my thoughts abroad: 
How happy are the saints in bliss, 
Who love no sinful world like this; 
But all their joy and glory is 

To serve and praise the Lord! 

These trifling pleasures here below- 
I wonder why I love them so; 

They cannot make me blest: 
O that to love my God might be 
The greatest happiness to me! 
And may he give me grace to see 

That this is not my rest. 





I saw the glorious sun arise 

From yonder mountain gray; 
And as he travell'd through the skies, 

The darkness fled away; 
And all around me was so bright, 
I wish'd it would be always light. 

But when his shining course was done, 

The gentle moon drew nigh, 
And stars came twinkling, one by one, 

Upon the shady sky, 

26 HYMNS. 

Who made the sun io shine so far, 
The moon, and every twinkling star? 

Twas God, my child, who made them all, 

By his almighty hand: 
He holds them, that they do not fall, 

And bids them move or stand: 
That glorious God, who lives afar, 
In heav'n, beyond the highest star. 

How very great that God must be, 

Who rolls them through the air! 
Too high, Mamma, to notice me, 

Or listen to my pray'r ! 
I fear he will not condescend 
To be a little infant's friend. 

yes, my love; for though he made 

Those wonders in the sky, 
You never need to be afraid 

He should neglect your cry; 
For humble as a child may be, 
A praving child he loves to see. 

HYMNS. 27 

Behold the daisy where you tread, 

That useless little thing; 
Behold the insects overhead, 

That gambol in the spring: 
His goodness bids the daisy rise, 
And ev'ry insect's wants supplies: 

And will he not descend to make 

A feeble child his care? 
Yes! Jesus died for children's sake, 

And loves the youngest prayer. 
God made the stars and daisies too, 
And watches over them and you. 



When to the house cf God we go, 
To hear his word, and sing his love, 

We ought to worship him below, 
Like all the saints in heaven above. 

They stand before his presence now, 
And praise him better far than we, 

28 HYMNS. 

Who only at his footstool bow. 
And love him, though we cannot see. 

But God is present every where, 

And watches all our thoughts and ways: 

He sees who humbly join in prayer, 
And who sincerely sing his praise. 

And he the triflers, too, can see, 
Who only seem to take a part: 

They move the lip, and bend the knee, 
But do not seek him with the heart. 

O may we never trifle so, 

Nor lose the days our God has given; 
But learn, by sabbaths here below, 

To spend eternity in heaven ! 


a child's humble confession and prayer 

A sinner, Lord, behold I stand; 

In thought, and word, and deed ! 
But Jesus sits at thy right hand, 

For such to intercede. 

HYMNS. 29 

From early infancy, I know, 

A rebel I have been; 
And daily, as I older grow, 

I fear I grow in sin. 

But God can change this evil heart, 

And give a holy mind, 
And his own heavenly grace impart, 

Which those who seek shall find. 

To heaven can reach the softest word — 

A child's repenting prayer — 
For tears are seen, and sighs are heard, 

And thoughts regarded, there. 

Then let me all my sins confess, 

And pardoning grace implore; 
That I may love my follies less, 

And love my Saviour more. 



Tell me, Mamma, if I must die, 
One day, as little baby died; 


And look so very pale, and lie, 

Down in the pit-hole, by its side? 
Shall 1 leave dear Papa and you, 

And never see you any more? 
Tell me. Mamma, if this is true;, 
I did not know it was before. 

'Tis true, my love, that you must die; 

The God who made you, says you must; 
And every one of us shall lie, 

Like the dear baby, in the dust. 

But that which thinks within your heart, 
And made you ask if you must die, 

That is your soul — the better part — 
Which God has made to live on high. 

Those who have lov'd him here below, 
And pray'd to have their sins forgiven, 

And done his holy will, shall go, 
Like happy angels, up to heaven. 

So, while our bodies moulder here, 

Their souls with God himself shall dwell; 

But always recollect, my dear, 
That wicked people go to hell. 


There the good God shall never smile, 
Nor give them one reviving look; 

For since they chose to be so vile, 
He leaves them to the \va} r they took. 


"thou god seest me." 

Amoxg the deepest shades of night 
Can there be one who sees my way? 

Yes; God is like a shining light, 
That turns the darkness into day. 

When every eye around me sleeps, 
May I not sin without control? 

No; for a constant watch He keeps, 
On every thought of every soul. 

If I could find some cave unknown, 
Where human feet had never trod, 

Yet there I could not be alone; 
On every side there would be God. 

He smiles in heaven; He frowns to hell; 
He fills the air, the earth, the sea: 

3£ HYMNS. 

X must within his presence dwell; 
I cannot from his anger flee. 

Yet I may flee — lie shows me where; 

To Jesus Christ he bids me fly: 
And while I seek for pardon there, 

There's only mercy in his eye. 



My love, I meet this happy day 
With pleasure, and with pain: 

I wish to learn your future way, 
But know the wish is vain. 

A journey which can never end, 

You have but just begun; 
And hand in hand with many a friend 

This little way have run: 

But friends, my love, how vain are they! 

For one infected breath 
May snatch the tenderest away, 

And seal them up in death: 

Then whither should my darling flyr 5 

In whom may she confide? 
There is a friend above the sky, 

Who waits to be her guide. 

His eye the path of life can see, 

And has as clear a view 
Of joys or sorrows yet to be, 

As what are past to you. 

He knows the point, the very spot, 
Where each of us shall fall; 

And whose shall be the earliest lot, 
And whose the last of all. 

Dear cherislvd child! if you should have 

To travel far alone, 
And weep by turns at many a grave, 

Before you reach your own, 

May He, who bade you weep, be nigh 

To wipe away your tears, 
And point you to a world on high, 

Beyond these mournful years! 

Yet, if it be his holy will, 
I pray that, hand in hand, 

34 HYMNS. 

We all may travel many a hill 
Of this the pilgrim's land; 

With Zion's shining gate in view, 
Through every danger rise; 

And form a family anew, 
Unbroken, in the skies. 



How kind, in all his works and ways, 

Must our Creator be! 
I learn a lesson of his praise 

From every thing I see. 

Ten thousand creatures by his hand 

Were brought to life at first: 
His skill their different natures plann'd, 

And made them from the dust: 

He condescends to do them good, 

And pities when they cry; 
For all their wants are understood 

By his attentive eye. 

HYMNS. 35 

And can so kind a Father frown ? 

Will he, who stoops to care 
For little sparrows falling down, 

Despise an infant's prayer? 

No; he regards the feeblest cry 

Nor will he turn away; 
But listen to the prayer that I 

A little child may say. 

make me try to love the Lord, 

And turn from sinful ways? 
And seek for grace to know his word, 

And serve him all my days. 



Lo, at noon 'tis sudden night! 

Darkness covers all the day! 
Rocks are rending at the sight! 

Children, can you tell me why? 
What can all these wonders be? 
Jesus dies at Calvary! 

30 HYMNS. 

Stretched upon the cross, behold 

How his tender limbs are torn ! 
For a royal crown, of gold, 

They have made him one of thorn! 
Cruel hands, that dare to bind 
Thorns upon a brow so kind ! 
See! the blood is falling fast 

From his forehead and his side! 
Listen! he has breathed his last! 

With a mighty groan he died ! 
Children, shall I tell you why 
Jesus condescends to die? 

He, who was a king above, 

Left his kingdom for a grave, 
Out of pity and of love, 

That the guilty he might save! 
Down to this sad world he flew, 
For such little ones as you! 
You were wretched, weak, and vile; 

You deserved his holy frown; 
But he saw you with a smile, 

And to save you hasten'd down. 
Listen, children; this is why 
Jesus condescends to die. 

HYMNS. 37 



When sweet summer flowers appear, 
We wish that they always would last; 
But Winter must shortly be here, 
To sweep them away with his blast: 

Spring, summer, and autumn still hasten away; 

The roses must fade, and the blossoms decay. 

In heaven no winter they know 
To wither their pleasures away; 
The plants that in Paradise grow 
Shall blossom, but never decay. 

Then for these fading pleasures no longer 
we'll care, 

But hope we shall spend an eternity there. 



My Father, my Mother, I know 
I cannot your kindness repay: 

But I hope, that, as older I grow, 
I shall learn your commands to obey. 


You lov'd me before I could tell 
Who it was that so tenderly smil'd; 

But now, that I know it so well, 
I should be a dutiful child. 

I am sorry that ever I should 

Be naughty, and give you such pain; 
I hope I shall learn to be good, 

And so never grieve you again. 

But, for fear that I ever should dare 
From all your commands to depart, 

Whenever I'm saying my prayer 
I'll ask for a dutiful heart. 



The morning hours of cheerful light, 

Of all the day are best; 
But as they speed their hasty flight 
If every hour is spent aright, 
We sweetly sink to sleep at night, 

And pleasant is our rest. 

And life is like a summer's day, 

It seems so quickly past; 
Youth is the morning bright and gay, 
And if 'tis spent in wisdom's way, 
We meet old age without dismay, 

And death is sweet at last. 



There is a path that leads to God, 

All others go astray; 
Narrow, but pleasant, is the road, 

And Christians love the way. 

It leads straight through this world of sin, 

And dangers must be past; 
But those who boldly walk therein 

Will come to heaven at last 

How shall an infant pilgrim dare 
This dangerous path to tread? 

For on the way is many a snare 
For youthful travellers spread; 

40 HYMNS. 

"While the broad road where thousands go, 

Lies near, and opens fair: 
And many turn aside, I know, 

To walk with sinners there. 

But, lest my feeble steps should slide, 

Or wander from thy way, 
Lord, condescend to be my guide, 

And I shall never stray. 



Now condescend, Almighty King, 

To bless this little throng; 
And kindly listen while we sing 

Our pleasant evening song. 

We come to own the Power divine 

That watches o'er our days: 
For this our feeble voices join 

In hymns of cheerful praise. 



Before the sacred footstool see 
We bend in humble prayer, 

A happy little family, 
To ask thy tender care. 

May we in safety sleep to-night, 

From every danger free; 
Because the darkness and the light 

Are both alike to thee. 

And when the rising sun displays 

His cheerful beams abroad, 
Then shall our morning hymn of praise 

Declare thy goodness, Lord. 

Brothers and sisters, hand in hand, 
Our lips together move; 

42 HYMNS. 

Then smile upon this little band, 
And join our hearts in love. 


a child's lamentation for the death of 

a dear mother. 
A poor afflicted child, I kneel 

Before my heavenly Father's seat, 
To tell him all the grief I feel, 

And spread my sorrows at his feet. 

Yet I must weep, I cannot stay 

These tears that trickle while I bend, 

Since thou art pleas'd to take away 
So dear, so very dear a friend. 

And now I recollect with pain 

The many times I grieved her sore; 

Oh! if she would but come again, 
I think I'd vex her so no more. 

How I would watch her gentle eye ! 

'Twould be my wish to do her will ! 
And she should never have to sigh 

Again, for my behaving ill ! 

HYMNS. 43 

But since she's gone so far away, 
And cannot profit by my pains, 

Let me this child-like duty pay 
To that dear parent who remains: 

Let me console his broken heart, 
And be his comfort, by my care; 

That when at last we come to part, 
I may not have such griefs to bear. 



We've pass'd another Sabbath day, 
And heard of Jesus and of heaven: 

We thank thee for thy word, and pray 
That this day's sins may be forgiven. 

Forgive our inattention, Lord, 

Our looks and thoughts that went astray^ 
Forgive our carelessness abroad; 

At home, our idleness and play. 

May all we heard and understood 

Re well remembered through the week, 

44 HYMNS. 

And help to make us wise and good, 
More humble, diligent, and meek. 

Bless our good minister, we pray, 
Who loves to see a child attend, 

And let us honour and obey 

The words of such a holy friend. 

So when our lives are finished here, 
And days and Sabbaths shall be o'er, 

May we along with him appear, 
To serve and love thee evermore. 



How long, sometimes, a day appears! 

And weeks how long are they! 
Months move as slow as if the years 

Would never pass away. 

It seems a long, long time ago 
That I was taught to read; 

And since I was a babe, I know 
'Tis very long indeed. 

HYMNS. 45 

But even years are passing by. 

And soon must all be gone; 
For day by day, as minutes fly, 

Eternity comes on. 

Days, months, and years must have an end; 

Eternity has none; 
'Twill always have as long to spend 

As when it first begun! 

Great God! an infant cannot tell 

How such a thing can be; 
I only pray that I may dwell 

That long, long time with thee. 



How dreadful, Lord, will be the day, 
When all the tribes of dead shall rise; 

And those who dar'd to disobey 

Be dragg'd before thy piercing eyes! 

The wicked child, who often heard 
His pious parents speak of thee, 

46 HYMNS. 

And fled from every serious word, 
Shall not be able then to flee. 

No: he shall see them burst the tomb, 
And rise, and leave him trembling there, 

To hear his everlasting doom, 

With shame, and terror, and despair. 

Whilst they appear at thy right hand, 
With saints and angels round the throne; 

He, a poor guilty wretch, shall stand, 
And bear thy dreadful wrath alone! 

No parent, then, shall bid him pray 
To Him, who now the sinner hears; 

For Christ himself shall turn away, 
And show no pity to his tears. 

Great God! I tremble at the thought; 

And at thy feet for mercy bend; 
That, when to judgment I am brought, 

The Judge himself may be my friend. 

HYMNS. 4? 



Where is the high and lofty One? 

His dwelling is afar; 
He lives beyond the blazing sun, 

And every distant star. 

But God, whom thousand worlds obey, 

Descends to earthly ground, 
And dwells in cottages of clay, 

If there his saints are found. 

Is not the heaven of heavens his own? 

Yes, he is Lord of all 5 
And there, before his awful throne, 

The saints and angels fall. 

But, little child, with joy attend; 

For if you love him too, 
This mighty God will condescend 

To come and dwell with you. 

48 HYMNS. 



Lord, may a few young children raise 
To thee a hymn of humble praise? 
'Tis by thy great compassion we 
Are taught to love and worship thee. 

What wicked children we have been ! 
Alas ! how soon we learned to sin ! 
But now we learn to read and pray, 
And not to break the Sabbath day. 

How condescending God must be, 
To love such little ones as we! 
He saw our sin with angry frown, 
And yet he look'd with pity down. 

O if we should again begin 
To grieve our God, and turn to sin, 
And let our guilty passions loose, 
We now shall be without excuse. 

Remember, Lord, we are but dust, 
'Tis to thy grace alone we trust; 
Do thou instruct and guide us still, 
That we may ne'er forget thy will. 





A minute, how soon it is flown! 
And yet how important it is ! 
God calls ev'ry moment his own, 
For all our existence is his; 
And though we may waste them in folly and 

He notices each that we squander away. 

Why should we a minute despise 
Because it so quickly is o'er? 
We know that it rapidly flies, 

And therefore should prize it the more. 
Another, indeed, may appear in its stead, 
But that precious minute for ever is fled. 

'Tis easy to squander our years 

In idleness, folly, and strife; 

But, oh ! no repentance or tears 

Can bring back one moment of life; 
But time, if well spent, and improved as it goes, 
Will render life pleasant, and peaceful its close. 

50 HYMNS. 

And when all the minutes are past, 

Which God for our portion has given, 
We shall cheerfully welcome the last, 
If it safely conduct us to heaven. 
The richest of blessings our Father can send 
Is that life of happiness never to end. 


a child's grave. 
What is this little grassy mound, 

Where pretty daisies bloom? 
What is there lying under ground? 

It is an infant's tomb. 

Alas, poor baby! did it die? 

How dismal that must be! 
To bid this pretty world good by 

Seems very sad to me. 

Silence, my child; for could we hear 

This happy baby's voice, 
We should not drop another tear, 

But triumph and rejoice : 


44 O do not ever weep for me," 

The happy soul would say; 
44 Nor grieve, dear child, that I am free 

4fc From that poor sleeping clay. 

44 Mourn not because my feeble breath 
44 Was stopp'd as soon as given; 

44 There's nothing terrible in death 
44 To those who come to heaven. 

4fc No sin, no sorrow, no complaints, 
44 My pleasures here destroy: 

44 I live with God and all his saints, 
44 And endless is our joy. 

44 While, with the spirits of the just, 

4i My Saviour I adore, 
44 1 smile upon my sleeping dust, 

44 That now can weep no more." 



Since, mighty God, my health, and ease, 
And life, belong to thee, 

5% HYMNS. 

I should not murmur, though thou please 
To take them all from me. 

Thou hast a right to use thy rod, 
Which I should meekly bear; 

And yet I may entreat that God 
A sinful child would spare. 

I own the comforts I possess, 

And thank thy care of me, 
While thousands languish in distress, 

And pine in poverty: 

Yet look with pity on my pain; 

My little strength restore; 
And grant me life and health again, 

To serve thee evermore. 



Lord, thou hast heard my humble voice, 

For all my pains depart: 
O grant that I may now rejoice 

With thankfulness of heart. 

HYMNS. 53 

Many have died as young as I, 

Though nurs'd with equal care; 
But God in pity heard my cry, 

And has been pleas'd to spare. 

Let me improve the years, or days, 

Thy mercy lends me here; 
And show my gratitude and praise, 

By living in thy fear. 
And, lest I need thy rod again, 

I pray thee to impart, 
As long as health or life remain, 

A thankful, humble heart. 



Almighty God, Pm very ill, 
But cure me, if it be thy will; 
For thou canst take away my pain, 
And make me strong and well again 

Let me be patient every day, 
And mind what those who nurse me say; 
And grant that all I have to take 
May do me good, for Jesus' sake. 




I thank the Lord, who lives on high: 

He heard an infant pray, 
And cur'd me, that I should not die, 

And took my pains away, 

O let me thank and love thee too, 

As long as I shall live; 
And every naughty thing I do, 

I pray thee to forgive. 



My Heavenly Father, I confess 

That all thy ways are just, 
Although I faint with sore distress, 

And now draw near the dust. 

How soon my health and strength are lied ! 

And life is nearly past! 
3mile upon my dying bed, 

And love me to the last 

HYMNS. 55 

take this guilty soul of mine, 

That now will soon be gone, 
And wash it clean, and make it shine, 

"With heavenly garments on. 

Be pleas'd to grant me easy death, 

If 'tis thy holy will, 
And bid the struggles of my breath 

And all my pains be still. 

Now, Lord, in heaven hear my prayer; 

Accept my dying praise; 
And let me quickly meet thee there, 

A better sons: to raise. 



Lord, I would own thy tender care 

And all thy love to mo: 
The food I eat, the clothes I wear 

Are all bestow'd by thee. 

*Tis thou preservest me from death 
And clangers every hour: 



I cannot draw another breath 
Unless thou give me power. 

Kind angels guard me every night. 

As round my bed they stay? 
Nor am I absent from thy sight 

In darkness, or by day. 

My health, and friends, and parents dear, 

To me by God are given, 
I have not any blessing here 

But what is sent from Heaven. 

Such goodness, Lord, and constant care, 

A child can ne'er repay; 
But may it be my daily prayer 

To love thee and obey. 



Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour, 
Once became a child like me: 

O that in my whole behaviour 
He my pattern still may be. 

HYMNS. 57 

All my nature is unholy; 

Pride and passion dwell within: 
But the Lord was meek and lowly. 

And was never known to sin. 

While I'm often vainly trying 

Some lew pleasure to possess, 
He was -J ways self-denying, 

Patient in his worst distress. 

Lord, assist a feeble creature; 

Guide me by thy word of truth; 
Condescend to be my teacher 

Through my childhood and my youth. 

permit me not to harden 

In my sin, and be content; 
But bestow a gracious pardon, 

And assist me to repent. 





As infants once to Christ were brought, 
That he might bless them there, 

So now we little children ought 
To seek the same by prayer. 

For when their feeble hands were spread, 

And bent each infant knee, 
"Forbid them not," the Saviour said: 

And so he says for me. 

Though now he is not here below, 
But on his heavenly hill, 

HYMNS. 59 

To him may little children go, 
And seek a blessing still. 

Well pleas'd that little flock to see, 

The Saviour kindly smil'd: 
Oh, then, he will not frown on me 

Because I am a child. 

For as so many years ago 

Poor babes his pity drew, 
I'm sure he will not let me go 

Without a blessing too. 

Then, while this favour to implore, 

My little hands are spread, 
Do thou thy sacred blessing pour, 

Dear Jesus, on my head. 



When Jesus Christ was here below, 
And spread his works of love abroad, 

If I had liv'd so long ago, 

I think I should have lov'd the Lord. 

60 HYMNS. 

Jesus, who was so very kind, 
Who came to pardon sinful men, 

Who heal'd the sick, and cur'd the blind, 
O! must I not have lov ? d him then? 

But where is Jesus? — is he dead? 

O no! he lives in heaven above; 
" And blest are they," the Saviour said, 

" Who, though they have not seen me, 

He sees us from his throne on high, 
As well as when on earth he dwelt; 

And when to him young children cry, 
He feels such love as then he felt. 

And if the Lord will grant me grace, 
Much I will love him, and adore; 

But when in heaven I see his face, 
'Twill be my joy to love him more. 




God made the world, in every land 
His love and power are shown: 

All are protected by his hand, 
But few his goodness own. 

He sees and governs distant lands, 
And constant bounty pours, 

From wild Arabia's burning sands 
To Lapland's frozen shores. 

In forest shades, and silent plains, 
Where feet have never trod, 

There in his mighty power he reigns, 
The ever present God. 

All the inhabitants of earth 
Who dwell beneath the sun, 

Of different nations, name, and birth, 
He knows them every one. 

Alike the rich and poor are known, 
Thepolish'd and the wild: 

He sees the king upon his throne, 
And every little child. 




He knows the worthy from the vile, 
And sends his mercy down: 

None are too mean to share his smile, 
Or to provoke his frown. 

Great God ! and since thy piercing eye 

My inmost heart can see, 
Teach me from every sin to fly, 

And turn that heart to thee. 


"though he was rich, yet, for our sakes, 

he became poor." ' 
Jesus was once despis'd and low, 

A stranger, and distress'd; 
Without a home to which to go, 

Or pillow where to rest: 

Once he was bound with prickly thorns, 

And scoff 'd at in his pain; 
Now a bright crown his head adorns, 

And he is king again. 

But what a condescending king! 
Who, though he reigns so high, 

HYMNS. 63 

Is pleased when little children sing, 
And listens to their cry. 

He sees them from his heavenly throne, 

He watches all their ways, 
And stoops to notice for his own 

The youngest child that prays. 



Lord, I have dar'd to disobey 

My friends on earth, and thee in heaven; 

help me now to come and pray, 
For Jesus' sake, to be forgiven. 

1 cannot say I did not know, 

For I've been taught thy holy will, 
And while my conscience told me so, 
And bade me stop, I did it still. 

But thou wast there to see my crime, 
And write it in thy judgment-book, 

O make me fear, another time, 

A sinful thought, or word, or look. 



Forgive me. Lord; forgive, I pray, 
This naughty thing that I have done; 

And take my sinful heart away, 
And make me holy, like thy Son. 



Stars, that on your wondrous way 
Travel through the evening sky, 


Is there nothing yon can say 
To such a little child as Ir 
Tell me, for I long to know, 
Who has made you sparkle so? 

Yes, methinks I hear you say, 
Child of mortal race, attend, 

While we run our wondrous way; 
Listen; we would be your friend; 

Teaching you that Name Divine, 

By whose mighty word we shine. 

Child, as truly as we roll 

Through the dark and distant sky, 
You have an immortal soul, 

Born to live when we shall die: 
Suns and planets pass away; 
Never can the soul decay. 

When some thousand years, at most, 
All their little time has spent, 

One by one our sparkling host 
Shall forsake the firmament: 

We shall from our glory fall; 

You must live beyond us all. 

Yes; — and God, who bade us roll, 
God, who hung us in the sky, 
f 2 

66 HYMNS. 

Stoops to watch an infant's soul 

With a condescending eye; 
And esteems it dearer far. 
More in value, than a star! 

O then, while your breath is given, 
Pour it out in fervent prayer, 

And beseech the God of heaven 
To receive your spirit there; 

Like a living star to blaze 

Ever to your Saviour's praise." 



Shall I presume to venture near 

A God so just and true? 
Or, sinful as I am, appear 

Before his piercing view? 

How oft I grieve his holy eye, 

And break his righteous law; 
And think some thought of vanity 

With every breath I draw! 

HYMNS. 67 

Yet, Lord, a sinful child may turn 

To wisdom's pleasant ways; 
For Jesus' sake, thou wilt not spurn 

My feeble prayer and praise. 

He died, that sinners, such as I, 

May have their sins forgiven; 
He died, that sinners, when they die, 

May live with him in heaven. 

It is for this I come to pray, 

And on his grace depend, 
That even at the judgment day 

The Lord may be my friend. 



Lord, what is life? 'Tis like a flower, 
That blossoms, and is gone: 

We see it flourish for an hour, 
With all its beauty on; 

But death comes like a wintry day, 

And cuts the pretty flower away. 

68 HYMNS. 

Lord, what is life? 'Tis like the bow 

That glistens in the sky: 
We love to see its colours glow; 

But while we look they die: 
Life fails as soon; to-day, 'tis here; 
To-night, perhaps, 'twill disappear. 
Some thousand years have passed away 

Since life began at first, 
And millions once alive and gay, 

Are dead, and in the dust: 
For life, in all its health and pride, 
Has death still waiting at its side. 

And yet, this short, uncertain space 

So foolishly we prize, 
That heaven, that happy dwelling place, 

Seems nothing in our eyes! 
And that bright world of lasting bliss, 
We disregard, compared with this ! 
Lord, what is life? If spent with thee, 

In duty, praise, and prayer, 
However long or short it be, 

We need but little care; 
Because eternity will last, 
When life, and even death are past. 

HYMNS. 69 



Where shall I be, when I shall go 
From this vain world of care and wo: 
None ever have returned to tell 
The joys of heaven, or pains of hell. 

Yet heaven must be a world of bliss, 
Where God himself for ever is; 
Where saints around his throne adore, 
And never sin nor suffer more. 

And hell's a state of endless wo, 
Where unrepenting sinners go; 
Though none that seek the Saviour's grace 
Shall ever see that dreadful place. 

O let me, then, at once apply 
To him who did for sinners die! 
And this shall be my great reward, 
To dwell forever with the Lord. 

70 HYMNS. 



Love and kindness we may measure 

By this simple rule alone: 
Do we mind our neighbour's pleasure. 

Just as if it were our own? 

Let us try to care for others, 
Nor suppose ourselves the best: 

We should all be friends and brothers, 
'Twas the Saviour's last request. 

His example we should borrow, 
Who forsook his throne above, 

And endur'd such pain and sorrow, 
Out of tenderness and love. 

When the poor are unbefriended, 
When we will not pity lend, 

Christ accounts himself offended, 
Who is every creature's friend. 

Let us not be so ungrateful, 
Thus his goodness to reward; 

Selfishness, indeed, is hateful 
In the followers of the Lord. 

HYMNS. 71 


"in the morning it flourisheth and 
groweth up; in the evening it is cut 
down and withereth." 

The flowers of the field, 

That quickly fade away, 
May well to us instruction yield, 

Who die as soon as they. 

That pretty rosebud see, 

Decaying on the walk; 
A storm came sweeping o'er the tree, 

And broke its feeble stalk. 

Just like an early rose, 

I've seen an infant bloom; 
But Death, perhaps before it blows, 

Will lay it in the tomb. 

Then let us think on death, 

Though we are young and gay; 
For God, who gave our life and breath, 

Can take them soon away. 


To God, who loves them all, 
Let children humbly cry; 

And then, whenever Death may call, 
May they be fit to die. 



In a modest humble mind 

God himself will take delight; 

But the proud and haughty find 
They are hateful in his sight. 

Jesus Christ was meek and mild, 
And no angry thoughts allowed: 

then, shall a little child 

Dare to be perverse and proud ! 

This, indeed, should never be; 

Lord, forbid it, we entreat; 
Grant they all may learn of thee, 

That humility is sweet: 

Make it shine in every part; 

Fill them with this heavenly grace; 

HYMNS. 73 

For a little infant's heart 
Surely is its proper place. 



Why should our poor enjoyments here 
Be thought so pleasant and so dear, 

And tempt our hearts astray? 
Our brightest joys are fading fast, 
The longest life will soon be past ; 
And if we go to heaven at last, 

We need not fear that day. 

For when we come to dwell above, 
Where all is holiness and love, 

And endless pleasures flow, 
Our threescore years and ten will seem 
Just like a short and busy dream; 
And O, how poor we then shall deem 

Our best pursuits below ! 

Perhaps the happy saints in bliss 
Look down from their bright world to this, 
Where once they used to dwell, 

74 HYMNS. 

And wonder why we trifle so, 
And love these vanities below, 
And live as if we did not know- 
There was a heaven and hell. 



This year is just going away, 

The moments are finishing fast: 
My heart, have you nothing to say 

Concerning the things that are past! 
Now, while in my chamber alone, 

Where God will be present to hear, 
111 try to remember and own, 

The faults I've committed this vear. 

O Lord, I'm asham'd to confess 
How often I've broken thy day ! 

Perhaps I have thought of my dress, 
Or wasted the moments in play; 

HYMNS. 75 

And when the good minister tried 

To make little children attend, 
I was thinking of something beside, 

Or wishing the sermon would end! 

How often I rose from my bed, 

And did not remember my prayer; 
Or if a few words I have said, 

My thoughts have been going elsewhere ! 
Ill temper, and passion, and pride, 

Have grieved my dear parents and thee; 
And seldom I really tried 

Obedient and gentle to be ! 

But, Lord, thou already hast known 

Much more of my folly than I; 
There is not a fault I can own, 

Too little for God to descry: 
Yet hear me, and help me to feel 

How wicked and weak I must be; 
And let me not try to conceal 

The largest, or smallest from thee. 

This year is just going away, 
The moments are finishing fast; 
g 2 

76 HYMNS. 

Look down in thy mercy, I pray, 
To pardon the sin that is past: 

And as soon as another begins, 
So help me to walk in thy fear, 

That I may not with follies and sins 
So foolishly waste a new year. 



Come, my love, and do not spurn 
From a little flower to learn; 
See the lily on the bed, 
Hanging down its modest head; 
While it scarcely can be seen, 
Folded in its leaf of green. 

Yet we love the lily well, 
For its sweet and pleasant smell; 
And would rather call it ours, 
Than some other gayer flowers; 
Pretty lilies seem to be 
Emblems of humility. 

HYMNS. 77 

Come, my love, and do not spurn 
From a little flower to learn: 
Let your temper be as sweet 
As the lily at your feet: 
Be as gentle, be as mild; 
Be a modest, simple child. 

'Tis not beauty that we prize; 
Like a summer flower it dies; 
But humility will last, 
Fair and sweet when beauty's past; 
And the Saviour from above 
Views a humble child with leve. 



When little Samuel woke, 

And heard his Maker's voice, 
At every word he spoke, 

How much did he rejoice! 
g 3 


O blessed, happy child, to find 

The God of heaven so near and kind ! 

If God would speak to me, 
And say He was my friend, 

How happy should I be! 
how would I attend! 

The smallest sin I then should fear, 

If God Almighty were so near. 

And does he never speak 

O yes; for in his word 
He bids me come and seek 

The God that Samuel heard: 
In almost every page I see, 
The God of Samuel calls to me. 

And I beneath his care 
May safely rest my head; 

I know that God is there, 
To guard my humble bed; 

And every sin I well may fear, 

Since God Almighty is so near 

Like Samuel, let me say, 
Whene'er I read his word, 



" Speak, Lord; I would obey 

"The voice that I have heard: 
" And when I in thy house appear, 
" Speak, for thy servant waits to hear. 



As Mary sat at Jesus' feet, 
To learn her Maker's will, 

We in the Saviour's presence meet, 
And hear his doctrine still, 
g 4 

80 HYMNS. 

O for that meek attentive mind, 
Which happy Mary show'd: 

And that instruction may we find, 
That was on her bestow'd. 

Here we are taught the sacred word 
The Saviour first conveyed; 

And here the doctrines we have heard 
Are plain and easy made. 

'Tis here we learn the glorious name 

Of God, who reigns above; 
And while we read of sinners' shame, 

Are taught the Saviour's love. 

Lord ! while we thank thee for the grace 
That sends this happy news, 

We still would sit in Mary's place, 
Her better part to choose. 

HYMNS. 81 



The God of heaven is pleas'd to see 
A little family agree; 
And will not slight the praise they bring, 
When loving children join to sing. 

For love and kindness please him more 
Than if we give him all our store; 
And children here, who dwell in love, 
Are like his happy ones above. 

The gentle child, that tries to please; 
That hates to quarrel, fret, and tease; 
And would not say an angry word: 
That child is pleasing to the Lord. 

Great God! forgive, whenever we 
Forget thy will, and disagree; 
And grant that each of us may find 
The sweet delight of being kind. 
g 5 

82 HYMNS. 



God! what a great and awful word! 

who can speak his worth ! 
By saints in heaven he is ador'd, 

And fear'd by men on earth; 
And yet a little child may bend, 
And say, My Father and my friend ! 

The glorious sun that blazes high; 

The moon, more pale and dim; 
And all the stars that fill the sky, 

Are made and rul'd by him; 
And yet a child may ask his care, 
And call upon his name in prayer! 

And this large world of ours below, 

The waters and the land, 
With all the trees and flowers that grow, 

Were fashion'd by his hand; 
Yes, and he forms our infant race: 
And even I may seek his grace ! 

HYMNS. 83 

Ten thousand angels sing his praise 

On high, to harps of gold; 
But holy angels dare not gaze, 

His brightness to behold: 
Yet a poor lowly infant may 
Lift up his voice to God, and pray! 

The saints in heaven before him fall, 

And round his throne appear; 
Adam, and Abraham, and all 

Who lov'd and serv'd him nere; 
And I, a child on earth, may raise 
My feeble voice in humble praise. 

O yes; when little children cry, 

He hearkens to their prayer; 
His throne of grace is always lugftj 

And I will venture there; 
I'll go, depending on his word, 
And seek his grace, through Christ the Lord. 




Come, let us now forget our mirth, 
And think that we must die: 

What are our best delights on earth, 
Compared with those on high? 

A sad and sinful world is this, 

Although it seems so fair; 
But heaven is perfect joy and bliss, 

For God himself is there. 

Here all our pleasures soon are past, 

Our brightest joys decay; 
But pleasures there for ever last, 

And cannot fade away. 

Here many a pain and bitter groan, 

Our feeble bodies tear; 
But pain and sickness are not known, 

And never shall be, there. 

Here sins and sorrows we deplore, 

With many cares distrest; 
But there the mourners weep no more, 

And there the weary rest. 



Our dearest friends, when death shall call, 

At once must hence depart; 
But there we hope to meet them all, 

And never, never part. 

Then let us love and serve the Lord 
With all our youthful powers; 

And we shall gain this great reward, 
This glory shall be ours. 





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